


(Dis)functional family

by deutschtard



Category: Minority Report (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Multi, Slightly Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschtard/pseuds/deutschtard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally loves the precogs, whether they all feel it for him is another story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Dis)functional family

He loved them all like they were his own children, and he felt like perhaps they knew that. perhaps they were aware of the countless hours he spent in that room with them.

Every day had a routine, he arrived early to brush their teeth and clean anything that needed it. The temple was a clean room, so it wasn't often that this was the case, but he liked to take extra time and rinse their faces gently with a warm cloth, just to treat them like the humans they were. Everyone else saw them as tools, but he had been with them since day one, since the beta testing, when they had gone to sleep in beds like regular human beings. Wally understood why their visions were necessary, why they were forced to use them 24/7, but they were children, and they were seeing things no children should see once, let alone an endless loop of horror and depravity.

He had started to talk to them a few weeks in. They may have been in medically induced comas, but doctors had proven a long time ago that coma patients could still hear. He started with describing the people that came around; the technicians, then later the officers. The milk bath became Wally's water cooler, he would dish any gossip he had to them, and they floated there, looking peaceful. He never forgot they were people, but sometimes he forgot they couldn't answer. That was when he started to feel lonely.

"You know what my mother told me the other day?" He said, leaning over Dashiell's body, holding his hand (just like he did for each of them for half an hour, twice a day) "She said 'Walter Donovan, you need to get out there and find yourself a nice girl, someone who can take care of you'." His face sank a bit, "She doesn't think I can take care of myself, I wish i could tell her how much I do for you guys." He put his other hand around Dash's, squeezing the smaller fingers around his own, making it feel like Dash was squeezing it.

"Hah, thanks, I know you know. Maybe sometimes I'll see if I can have a movie night for you three. Even cops get a night off, the world won't stop turning without you three for a few hours..."

As one year dragged into two, the cops circled around, never used anyone's full name but Agatha--there wasn't a good nickname that ever stuck-- and the language kept getting more and more distancing, dehumanizing. "The twins, the female, the precogs." He wanted to scream at the detective _They're still human, you assholes! They can hear you talking about them like they're just a computer! They have emotions!_ They did, but maybe they didn't see all the childish insults and derogatory remarks from the detectives. Maybe they did. He tried to push a memo from the top, to get the negative comments about the trio considered workplace harassment, but the captain's response was a bitter, stinging, "They're the precogs, it's better not to think of them as human."

He can't remember how many times he thought about breaking them out and taking them somewhere they could live, breathe real air, feel the sun on their skins, but he was just one man. One man that would have no job and no way to care for them without one. That and they'd find him, they wouldn't just let him get away with it. He'd never even make it out of the city, let alone far enough away that their minds wouldn't be filled with murder.

He loved his job, loved the twins, loved Agatha, but he hated his job, how helpless he was to truly make their lives **good**.

One night, the clock on the computer read 3:46am, and he was crying. No one was around but the trio.

"I'm sorry," he choked, quiet and pitiful, "I'm sorry you don't know how to play baseball, or dance ballet, or what a Chinese pizza tastes like. I'm sorry you've never seen the sunset in this city, not one that you could feel the heat from." He didn't even realise he'd ended up in the milk bath, holding their hands to his chest. They weren't children anymore, but they were _his_ children. "I'm sorry I can't get you out of here." Wally was smart, smart enough to realise even attempting such a thing would be suicide.

So he stayed. He clipped their nails, brushed their teeth, kept their hair cut, cared for them as much as he was able, and he talked to them.

The day Dash showed up on his doorstep was the happiest of his life. Though he had married, he had never had kids, the precogs were his family, it felt like **cheating** to even entertain the idea. That was one of the reasons he'd divorced. And now the twins were back, even if Arthur refused to talk to him. He deserved it, what with how much Anger was visible in the set of his jaw, the tense of his shoulders. He knew Arthur hated the police department. Wally figured there was always one child in every family that had a bad relationship with their parents. Maybe with the good Dash was doing, maybe Arthur would see Wally as the father he'd always tried to be to them.

It was a nice dream to have.


End file.
